From under a mountain of rubble I speak to you

Well...I guess I put it here. But it is not all my design. Some is the design of others. Some is of no design @ all. At least that's what it seems. Sometimes I wheel a barrow in & move it from one place to another. An interesting heap here. A creative arrangement to briefly damn the deluge. But the current persists & my meagre efforts are just that. I forget to look up or around. I forget that I am spinning. I just assume that my dizzy view is my own. I take too much credit. I like to think the wings of birds were my idea. Or that I planned & packed for this vertiginous trip. I need to be more resourceful. Learn to build a fire. Which plants can I eat? Drink upstream. & when the moon whips into place & the dark eats the sun, huddle in the caves carved out of the side of this tenuous slope.